Part 7 (1/2)

See what the summer has to show!

Come back, come back--we too are here.”

I hear them calling, and I go.

But when once more my dripping oar Makes music on the dreaming air, I vainly look to stream and sh.o.r.e For those white arms that lured me there.

I listen to the singing weir, I hold my breath where thrushes are, But I can never, never hear The voice that called me from afar.

Only when spring grows fair next year, Even where sin and cities be, I know what voices I shall hear, And what white arms will beckon me.

ON THE MEDWAY.

I.

In summer evening, love, We glide by gra.s.sy meadows, Red sun is s.h.i.+ning, Day is declining, Peace is around, above.

The poplar folds on high Dark wings against the sky; Through dreaming shadows On we move, Silently, you and I.

And seaward still we row, By sedge and bulrush sliding, Breezes are sending Ripples unending Over the way we go.

Above the poplar tree The moon sails white and free, The boat goes gliding Swift or slow, But ever towards the sea.

II.

Dip, drip, in and out The rhythmic oars move slowly, Mist-kissed, round about The pale sky reddens wholly; Chill, still, through waxing light Mystical and tender, Morn, born of starlit night, Clothes herself with splendour.

Rose-glows in eastern sky, In the north faint flushes; Boat, float idly by Past the sedge and rushes!

Here, near the willow screen River-G.o.ds bathe gaily; White, bright against the green, Poets see them daily.

See, we, we alone Greet this fresh sun-waking, Too few, who hail day done, See it in the making!

Sad, glad, we two see Dawn the earth adorning, Sigh: ”Why can no noon be Worth so gold a morning?”

III.

It was beside a wide, white weir, Where the foam dances in the sun, The b.u.t.terflies are fair this year, And o'er the weir there hovered one-- A far-off cottage curled its smoke Against a blue and perfect sky; There love triumphant laughed and woke, And we were silent--you and I.

Love stirred in sleep, reached out his hands, And sighed, and smiled, and stood upright, Then fell the careful cobweb bands With which our will had bound his might; His royal presence made us still, Our will was water, matched with his; Like water-spray he broke our will And joined our lips in our first kiss.

IV.

Look out! The stars are s.h.i.+ning, The dew makes gray the meadow!

The jasmine stars are twining About your window bright; The glow-worms green are creeping On lawns all dressed in shadow, The roses all are sleeping-- Good-night, my heart, good-night!